The significance of a snowflake
by thelordsnow
Summary: Robb Stark was young, had the world ahead of him and Jon knew it. how could it have gone so wrong?


It was wrong. It had always been wrong and it would forever be wrong. And yet the tug of loneliness began to pull at Jon Snow's mind. He reached for the phone but hesitated before picking it up, fingers twitching in conscious indecision. They tightened into fists and he sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. He couldn't keep doing this so instead he tumbled down onto the sofa and reached for the tv remote. There was nothing on worth his interest so he switched it off and resigned himself to the fabric cosiness of his sofa. It began with emptiness; a great open vastness that was as heavy as the earth itself. Then the buzzing would grow, filling the void and prompting images upon images of memories he had long thought buried. He would try to will them away but it was as hopeless as trying to swat away a fly with hands as thin as sewing needles. Impossible - just like the longing for what he could never have. Jon pushed himself up with an angry grunt, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he looked up and after the dots had disappeared from his sight he was faced with a view of falling snow.

Brow furrowed, he made his way to the window warily. It was mid October, too early for snow. The scene below took him aback with its familiarity so much so he turned his head away in shock, mouth slightly open, not expelling a single drop of air. After a moment he swallowed, flinching at the lump he failed to disintegrate at the back of his throat. He pushed the window open reluctantly and raised a hand into the cool air. He watched as snowflakes fell to their death on the climactic inferno of his hand that came of having decent central heating. He studied them for a while, pondering the significants of each individual snowflake. Yes you needed millions to create a storm but you could also make it with many missing. Just as humans. How many people on the planet were insignificant in the grand scheme of things? How insignificant was Jon? Some would argue that everyone has their part to play and that everyone is significant but how many, Jon wondered, had died withought fulfilling that purpose set out for them at birth? And thus the point is proved that the deaths of such people are of no great consequence and furthermore: was he really needed?

Slowly he lowered his arm and his eyes, studying the ground through narrowed eyes. The road was clear apart from his bike which sat forlorn and white rimmed with snow. A few feet to the left he saw the dip in the brick wall and had to yet again look away. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw as he pulled the window to, fingers lingering on the handle as his other reached up to rub his right temple. He exhaled, dropped his hand and headed back to where his phone lay. This time he didn't hesitate as he picked it up and slid his finger across the screen. He just needed to hear his voice. He sat back down on the edge of the sofa and raised the mobile to his ear. Four short sharp trills and the silk bliss seeped through the phones receiver warming Jon to the core.

'Jon? I'm almost there, just round the corner'

'be careful' he croaked in reply

'i'm always careful' he chuckled, making Jon smile.

'i miss you…'

'woah hold on' Jon's stomach tightened painfully and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

'i miss you…' he breathed again as all at once Robb's cries bombarded his senses, tempting the tears from Jon's eyes. Then a resounding silence. 'i love you' he choked, barely able to keep from throwing the device across the room. Calmly as he could he lowered the phone and paused. Many said Robb stark was meant for greatness but was he after all? Or was he as insignificant as a snowflake melting on the hand of the man he loved? Jon pressed play on the recording once again, sobs echoing around the room as he raised the phone to his ear, the silk bliss tugging all loneliness from his mind 'Jon? Im almost there, just round the corner'


End file.
